


The Cold, Hard Truth

by Flynne



Series: Lynnie Amell [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Lynnie Amell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 10:20:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14692188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flynne/pseuds/Flynne
Summary: At long last, Alistair has a confession to make.





	The Cold, Hard Truth

“You know,” Lynnie said with a sigh, “if there’s anything I’ve learned since I’ve left the Circle, it’s that I truly prefer not being surrounded by hordes of people.” The day spent with the Dalish elves finalizing the last arrangements before calling the landsmeet had been productive but exhausting, and it was a relief to enter the shelter of her tent.

Alistair paused half-in, half-out of the entryway. “I can leave you alone for a bit, if you like.”

Lynnie smiled and shook her head. “Of course not. You are not a horde.”

He slipped inside and let the flap fall closed behind him. “And if I was?”

“Well, I suppose that’d be an exception,” she replied, matching his light, teasing tone as he sat beside her. “I’d keep you around.”

He arched a brow. “Oh? And what would you do with me?”

She grinned mischievously. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

Alistair caught her as she pounced, laughing as he fell back against her bedroll. Lynnie let herself fall on top of him as he pulled her down for a kiss, but when she slipped her hands beneath the hem of his shirt, he let out a yelp against her mouth, causing her to pull back in startled confusion. “What?” she asked. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, too hastily. “Come on now, where were we?”

Lynnie rolled her eyes, not moving away from where she lay against his chest, but keeping herself braced against him to keep him from pulling her close again. “As if that can convince me.” Despite her amusement at his too-casual attitude, she couldn’t quite ignore a twinge of concern. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

He smiled fondly up at her in spite of his sheepish expression. “No, I’m not hurt.”

“Then what?”

Alistair sighed and let his head fall back against the bedroll, knowing she wasn’t going to let it go. “Fine. Lynnie…”

“Yes?”

“My darling dearest…”

She rolled her eyes again, but couldn’t hide a smirk. “Yes?”

He lifted his head to make eye contact with her again. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not sure you realize quite how cold your hands are.”

A surprised laugh bubbled up before she could stop it. She wiggled free of his embrace, ignoring his playfully petulant noise of protest, and sat up, looking down at her palms. “I suppose it comes with the territory of specializing in ice spells,” she said. “I don’t even notice it any more.” When she’d set out on her journey as warden, she’d discovered that frost and lightning spells were far more damaging than anything else in her magical arsenal. Even though her practice sessions with the spells had caused her bones to ache with cold, she’d kept it up. Her body had eventually acclimated, and even though she had noticed that her hands were chilly most of the time, it had long ago ceased to bother her, and she’d all but forgotten about it. She giggled again. “Poor Alistair. I’m sorry about that.”

“Yes, yes, poor me,” he said, sitting up as well. He crossed his legs and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I think I deserve recognition for bearing it so courageously all this time. But really, I don’t mind. It caught me by surprise just now, is all.”

Lynnie snorted. “You should have  _said_ something,” she said, half amused, half exasperated. “I would have tried to warm them up.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. They do warm up eventually,” he replied, giving her a sly grin that made her blush.

_“Still,”_  she insisted, mustering as much dignity as she could.

“Still,” he echoed, the teasing fading from his voice. “It really doesn’t bother me that much.”

“But it  _does_ bother you.”

“Well I never  _claimed_ to enjoy having blocks of ice stuffed under my clothing…”

Lynnie swatted his arm, but his hand shot out and caught hold of hers before she could pull it back. He grinned at her. “Here, I’ve got an idea.” Keeping hold of her hand, he shifted around until he sat leaning against her trunk, stretching his legs out to create a v-shaped wedge of space between them. “Come here.”

Lynnie let him tug her forward to sit between his knees, leaning back against his chest to rest her head in the pocket of his shoulder. “This seems promising.”

“I have my moments.” He wrapped his arms around her, reaching down to enfold both her hands in his.

Lynnie smiled up at him as the warmth of his rough swordsman’s hands soaked into her chilled fingers. “This is very sweet of you.”

“Never mind sweet,” he retorted. “This is an act of self-preservation.” He let out a theatrical “oof” as she elbowed him playfully in the ribs. “You’re lucky I love you enough to put up with your shenanigans,” he told her.

She laughed. “And put up with my cold hands?”

He chuckled. “Especially put up with your cold hands.”

Lynnie smiled, but the look on her face was anything but teasing. “I am lucky,” she said softly.

Alistair lifted their intertwined hands to kiss the tips of her fingers, then leaned closer. Lynnie closed her eyes as he kissed her, and in the circle of his arms, she didn’t feel cold at all.   


End file.
